


The Sequel That No One Asked For, Especially Not Golden_Au, But the One I Did Anyways Because My Brain Keeps Providing Me With More Shitty and Useless Ideas

by Onlyplatonicirl



Series: A New Love [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: 10 years later, Angst, Edge - Freeform, Emotional, I hate myself, If i put the warning on the tags it will spoil it, M/M, Minor Character Death, READ NOTES FOR TW, Suffering everywhere!!! :D, Tragedy, major trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 05:24:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21049019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onlyplatonicirl/pseuds/Onlyplatonicirl
Summary: Repear wants to let Geno go.But no matter where he goes, the smaller is still there.





	The Sequel That No One Asked For, Especially Not Golden_Au, But the One I Did Anyways Because My Brain Keeps Providing Me With More Shitty and Useless Ideas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Golden_Au](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golden_Au/gifts), [TKWolf45](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TKWolf45/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Glimpse Into Forever](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18667033) by [Golden_Au](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golden_Au/pseuds/Golden_Au). 

> READ END NOTES FOR TRIGGER WARNING  
If you don't want it spoiled but ur also worried for ur health, there is no: suicide, self-harm or major character death
> 
> Anyways this probably will make zero coherent sense. I have no capability to create ~flow~
> 
> Anyways I hope Golden_Au and TKWolf45 suffer. I just feel its necessary to show them how many emoshons they make my small child body overflow with on a chapterly basis.

Death’s life was filled with loss. It was part of his job. Watching the friends and family of victims break down into tears as the unfortunate souls’ essence was sliced in two was an everyday occurrence, so he was desensitized to the horrors of tragedy. There was hardly anything in existence that could make the deity shed a tear – he had seen it all.

Or so he had thought. He soon learned that, even in his realm of expertise, he had never experienced the most brutal form of loss there was. When guilt and loathing were so strong it took over all his senses, and the only thoughts running through his head were _I could have I should have I would have._

But he didn’t.

Since they parted, Reaper had a few more encounters with his former love. Of course, to Gen- _Fatal,_ it was a new encounter every time. The smaller never remembered seeing Reaper, but it wasn’t like he cared, anyways. Fatal’s one priority was pleasing Nightmare, and therefore Reaper never stuck around for long. Even though he had willingly given Geno away, it made his bones grow hot with a spark of rage.

However, the anger was directed at himself for not caring for Geno in the way he should have, not towards the one who now claimed ownership. Reaper knew he should have stayed, he should have comforted him, he should have held Geno in his arms and kissed his forehead until his worries left him, even if his mind was broken, and sing his darling to sleep.

But he didn’t.

And Reaper had to live knowing that every day. Knowing he had let Geno down. And the young Reaper in Training.

Goth had grown up without his mother – he was raised by Reaper and Life together. The child was healthy, strong, intelligent and kind, and had such a vibrant personality. He grew every day, and now, at 15 years old, he was almost as tall as his father. Almost.

As Goth had progressed through the stages of his life, like saying his first word, taking his first steps, and going for his first day of school, Reaper had an instinct to turn to the mother and kiss him on the forehead. With every achievement, the only though running through his mind was _I wish Geno could see his little boy right now._

But Geno wasn’t there. And he never was going to be.

When Goth had home from preschool one day, and asked why all the other kids had mommies and he didn’t, Reaper just broke down into tears.

Every memory of his former fiancé hurt like a bullet to the soul. His smile, his crimson flush, and the way he’d snuggle himself into Reaper’s side during the night. He couldn’t think about it any longer.

So he didn’t.

Every picture of Geno was burned. Every photo on his phone was deleted, and then permanently deleted. Every article of clothing the smaller had owned was given away, and the day Goth was born now just held pictures of the sleeping bundle of bones and his father, as if the baby had magically come into being without a mom. The God of Death had stormed his house, ridding everything – _anything_ – that reminded him of his love. Not a lot was left. So, he took Goth and moved somewhere new. Somewhere green. Out on a pasture, with flowers and sunlight streaming in from every window. And to preserve that happiness, he rarely left his house, except when work called. At least, that was his excuse.

In Reaper’s eyes, he wasn’t worthy of seeing Geno’s face anymore. That gorgeous smile and that beautiful voice no longer existed, because of him. He was the one responsible for Geno’s decline into insanity, and therefore he felt he shouldn’t ever treat himself to seeing such beauty again. 

He never even said Geno’s name. The person associated with that title was dead and gone, so there was no point in remembering. If someone were to carry Geno’s legacy, it shouldn’t and wouldn’t be by the one who left him to die.

But he didn’t stop there.

Reaper destroyed their twin bed, and it replaced it with a single. The god couldn’t bear the thought of waking up in the morning, with the second side of the bed cold, and getting colder every day. He made Papyrus vow not to ever mention anything of Death’s former darling. He tore at every one of his cloaks that Geno had ever worn, ripping them to shreds and ridding any scent or trace of warmth the glitch had left in those bits of fabric. 

Death was beginning his life anew.

Or so he wanted to.

However, his work often led him back to Fatal, seeing as the smaller was at Nightmare’s side constantly, waiting for his every command. Reaper never commented, and always kept himself hidden.  
Over the years, Reaper had unobtrusively watched Fatal and Nightmare’s relationship grow. With every encounter, Fatal grew more and more obedient, slowly becoming accustomed to his new life with Nightmare. The small error didn’t seem concerned with anything other than his Honey, for which the Lord of Negativity was grateful for. Reaper watched Nightmare treat what used to be his love with cruelty and possession, but Reaper held his tongue.

Fatal was always sent to do Nightmare’s dirty work. When invading a timeline, Nightmare would simply sit back and watch as he set the error loose against an entire town, reducing them to nothing but heaps of dust and blood. After there was nothing left except a few red strings spiderwebbed between buildings, he would scamper back to Nightmare, timidly asking if he did good, desperate for Honey’s praise.

But as time went by, “Honey” slowly morphed into “Master”, Reaper absently noticed. He wanted to intervene. To take his Gen back and protect him from the abusive relationship the god knew he was trapped in – bruises of that color and shape on his pearly white skull were most certainly not just mishaps or careless accidents. 

He wanted to save Geno.

…

But there was no Geno.

So he didn’t.

Nightmare changed Fatal’s outfit. Reaper was partiality grateful for that – the less and less Fatal Error looked like Geno, the better it was for the reaper’s mental stability to understand that there was a difference between the two. Nightmare dressed the smaller up in cloth of black, blue, and purple. They were lacy, and Fatal always wore a big blue ribbon tied in a bow around his neck to signify ownership. 

The God didn’t think about what Nightmare was doing to Fatal that asserted that “ownership”. It made Reaper want to vomit.

Nightmare’s arrogance grew every day, knowing he had a little monster that practically worshipped him, begging for his constant attention and praise. The other Genociders weren’t easy on Fatal either, from what Reaper had heard. Apparently, they treated him as if he were a piece of trash, and made him fetch things when they were too lazy to get off their own asses. The smaller was constantly shoved around in Nightmare’s castle, and beaten up whenever his brain rebooted and his memory of the last ten minutes were habitually wiped.

Through some random Genocider the deity had interrogated while reaping the murderer’s most recent victim, they had said that only Nightmare could touch Fatal.

“Romantically,” the killer had added. Although with a chuckle, he said he wished that his Boss would allow the little error to be passed around.

He died a horrible, horrible death.

But Reaper still never made any moves. Fatal… couldn’t comprehend that the relationship he was in was a severely abusive; To the error, Nightmare loved him. Because Fatal couldn’t see the obvious one-sided affection, the smaller was unperturbed by the inhumane and degrading actions of Nightmare. Everything the Lord of Negativity did or said, Fatal would dutifully follow – but whether it was because Fatal was slowly forgetting every other moment he had ever lived that didn’t involve Nightmare, or but because his believed “lover” was truly dedicated to the little error, Reaper didn’t know.  
Even after ten more years, Fatal was still smiling. Affection from his Honey seemed to be the only thing he lived for, and Reaper had caught a glimpse of the famed “Baby” that Fatal carried everywhere. The small skeleton held a doll made of twigs and stones, with a gray rock for a head and little arms and legs made of sticks. It seemed that he had even gotten a small blanket to bundle the little thing in, holding it in such a cherishing way one might have believed it was real. The error would coo to it lovingly and would always come back for it whenever he set it down, which was unusual seeing as Fatal never remembered anything else of importance.

He would sit and rock his child in his arms, stroking its stony head while Nightmare ruthlessly slaughtered villages of people around him. Fatal didn’t bat an eyelash at any of the screams – he had grown accustomed to them over the years. Sometimes Reaper would sit and watch the small error as he hummed and gently kissed his precious bundle. The god of Death would hide away in the leaves of the trees, keeping Fatal unconscious company while he coddled the thing and slowly drifted away, his arms wrapped protectively around the rocks.

Reaper would immediately vanish once Nightmare came back. He never wanted to be caught again by the Lord of Darkness, but he knew that Nightmare wouldn’t harm him. The damage done to his soul was permanent, and Nightmare was well aware he had already scarred Reaper as deep as he could go.

But slowly, Reaper felt those scars being patched up. Fatal’s environment didn’t matter – as long as he was smiling. If Fatal was smiling it meant he was fulfilled, and he felt loved. It didn’t really matter if he was actually loved or not. As long as he felt loved, then that was enough for Reaper.

Sometimes, he had to remind himself of that. As hard as it was to give his former lover up, he had to remind himself it was for the greater good. He was inadequate in his abilities to care for the smaller as he should have, and besides – ripping him away from Nightmare now would only leave him a bigger mess. He had already developed such a strong emotional bond with the evil overlord, and to take him away would leave Fatal even more mad than he used to be. So leaving him with Nightmare was alright.

It was for the best. Reaper wasn’t worthy. Nightmare was.

He often had to repeat this mantra in his head many times

Especially when Nightmare approached the smaller once, and due to unintentional eavesdropping, Reaper could hear a few words whispered that made his breath hitch in his throat.

_“How about we get you something better than those rocks to care for~?”_

He wasn’t worthy, He wasn’t worthy, He wasN’T WORTHY-

After that, Reaper hadn’t seen Fatal for a little over a year.

He had confronted Nightmare about it once, and the Lord of Darkness had simply tsked and said that _his_ little doll was at home, and had been so good for him.

Nightmare had expected some form of retaliation with the use of such language, but the Reaper only stiffened, nodded his head curtly, and vanished.

But now Fatal had returned to Nightmare’s side after a long absence. He was once again following the tall skeleton around dutifully, killing on command and doing everything he could do to appease him. 

But Reaper noticed a prominent change.

…

In between the folds of a soft blanket came the little blinking eyes of a small child. Its bones were gray, and its eyes were a gorgeous cyan, with a light red dusting the outline of the pupil. When it cried, little glitches would pop up across its frail body, and Fatal would lift it to his skull and pepper it in kisses until it quieted, cooing little melodies that Reaper remembered Geno singing to Goth before his bedtime.

The baby Fatal held so lovingly was now much more than just a few rocks. It was a living breathing being, that sucked on his mother’s fingers with warbling cries of naïve excitement.  
Of course – Reaper was devastated. It was hard not to be. But in between his pitiful sobs was a soft smile. Because finally – his Gen was getting to live the life he had always wanted and would finally be able to raise a child with his honey and be there for his baby throughout its whole life.

But this child’s life would be very different to Goth’s. This baby would grow with a amnesic mother and a sadistic father who had an army of murders and hitmen under his control. This baby hadn’t come into existence to be loved – it came built as a weapon, a weapon that would be utilized in battle. An ultimate machine of destruction, born from the raw power and might of an error and being of pure, unfiltered hatred.

They named the child Defect. A fitting title, seeing as the child was an abomination in the eyes of most. It was also due to Nightmare’s absolute apathy towards memorable events, even to the birth of a child. The rumors were he had taken one look at tiny infant and snarled, because he thought it to be “too weak,” and titled it a defect. And so, the name stuck. 

Of course, all newborn babies are weak. Nightmare didn’t seem to understand this, because by two months the baby’s strength was already blown way out of proportion to someone of its size, and his HP was in the high fifties.

Apparently, Nightmare was already teaching the young baby to kill mice and small insects in order to raise its LV at an early age and have it become accustomed to violence. But these were just rumors.

And rumors were a horrible, horrible thing.

Reaper sat up in a branch, little more than a shadow, staring down silently over mother and child. The wind blew gently through the leaves, and wind chimes blew in the distance. Fatal giggled happily down at his baby, and the baby gurgled back, proving itself as more than a dolly. 

The greenery hid the God of Death from sight, and he sighed solemnly. On the glitch’s ring finger, a small black band fit perfectly over the bone. Reaper had long ago discarded his wedding ring, but Geno had needed it to survive in real-time. Maybe Fatal still needed it to. Or Nightmare might have converted it into his own ring. 

A gust of wind blew, and Fatal’s blue ribbon around his neck danced to the invisible force. The child’s eyes caught the movement and smiled, letting out a high pitched squeal of delight, reach up its hands to grab at the fluttering fabric. 

Fatal pressed a kiss to Defect’s head.

And Reaper felt he had seen enough to know that the smaller was content. 

The deity swirled his form into a smokey darkness, creeping across the bark of the tree, the leaves wilting as Death passed. Landing on the ground, the God unfurled massive black wings from his back, and crouching in preparation to take off, killing all the grass in a five-foot radius.

_ **“H-HeLlo?”** _

Reaper froze. 

Shit.

He had tried to watch over the smaller undetected, but it seemed as if Fatal had learned of his presence. 

He willed his wings to take off but he couldn’t get them to move.

Rustling was heard from behind him as the error got to his feet, readjusting the baby in his arms. _**“Wi-winGs?”**_ Fatal murmured to himself.

His bones were rattling, yet even though his mind was screaming at him to run away, he stayed still.

Slowly, he stood to his full height, and his wings folded back behind him. Fatal gasped in awe, and before he knew it, there was a small hand trailing its fingers through his glossy feathers.

Death leapt back, unprepared for the contact. No one had been able to touch him since Geno, and that had been over twenty years ago. His sensitivity had heightened.

“Don’t touch me,” He growled lowly, turning towards the error. His hood obscured his features, and his black cloak conceal the rest of his body, swirling menacingly at his feet as if it were made of vapor. He tried to appear as threatening as he could, but the smaller didn’t seem to take any notice of his menacing façade. He simply blinked his double hued eyes and looked Reaper up and down. The baby squirmed in the blanket it was swaddled in, its little feet kicking through the fabric. It whined for it’s mother’s attention.

Fatal turned his attention to Defect in interest, smoothing the blankets and pulling a small pacifier out of his pocket and gently putting it between the infant’s teeth, cooing. By the time he looked back up, he had already forgotten Reaper was there, and jolted in surprise to see Death staring him down.

_ **“H…hEll-HelLo?”** _

Reaper exhaled slowly, before lowering his head. “Hello,” he responded in a monotonous drawl. “I am Death.”

The error rolled the last word around on his tongue a few times, before he registered its meaning. His eyes suddenly bugged from his skull, and he clutched Defect to his chest protectively, stumbling backwards. Tears filled his eyes.

_ **“N-nO…No!! No… N-not Readdy. NoT ReAdy. NoT TimE FoR BabY!”** _

Reaper tried to explain himself, but the error kept shaking, summoning several attacks behind him, convinced that Reaper wanted to kill his child.

So he stopped, and held up his hands in a peaceful manner.

“I’m not here for your child, Fatal. Nor you. I am simply passing by. You just so happened to see me.”

Fatal blinked in confusion.

Then he blinked again.

_**“P…PassiNg…pasSing?”**_ Tears filled his eyes again. _**“G-GO Away I DO-DON’T WaNt! PASSing awaY!!!!”**_

Reaper sat in a stunned silence as the error began to break down into tears, clutching his child to his chest. The bright innocence in the baby’s eyes began to grow glassy as it sensed its mother’s distress, beginning to scrunch up its face.

“Hey, G-… Fatal, calm down. I will not hurt you, I promise.”

The ever-growing ring of dead plants beneath the reaper’s feet didn’t make any efforts to help his case, and the smaller shrieked, stumbling backwards in utter terror. But Fatal’s coordination wasn’t stellar, and he tripped over his own feet, collapsing onto the grass. Reaper remained still, watching the smaller attempt to pick himself back up. By the time Fatal had shushed the crying baby and rubbed the grass out of his eyes, he looked back up to Reaper, and blinked his eyes in shock.

_ **“hEl…H-HellO???”** _

He couldn’t do this again.

The baby whined pitifully around its pacifier and looked around with big eyes, its attention drawn to anything that moved. 

As the silence between the two was prolonged, Defect began to wiggle and flail their arms around in an excited, innocent movement, grunting from the joy of being held.

The thing was so small.

So, so small. It was hardly bigger than Fatal’s forearm.

It reminded him of when Goth was just a little babe.

…

…

…

The baby smiled, its eyes bright and full of life, looking to Reaper with innocent glee. It stretched out its little arms and made grabby motions with its little fingers. It was wearing a fluffy onesie, and its hands barely passed the length of the sleeves. It’s clothes were patterned with blue and pink flowers with little smiley faces. Burbling happily, it looked to Reaper expectantly, wanting to be held by the mysterious figure.

…

…

…

Reaper had done a fairly good job remaining levelheaded throughout this ordeal. 

He would always logic himself through every issue that arose, mostly resorting to self-blame.

But something happened deep inside of him when the baby smiled up at him. A pain in his chest suddenly throbbed, and he felt a thick, creeping fog overtaking his senses.

And the threads holding his sanity together snapped.

“Hello, Fatal. I am Lord Death. I believe we’ll become well acquainted eventually. But first, I’d like to meet your little baby.”

He didn’t give the error a chance to process the thought before his scythe materialized in his hands and swung into the infant’s skull, shattering it into pieces.

Its little legs stopped kicking.

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Scythe thru the head of infant baby
> 
> Anyways yeah HhhHh My mom's gonna think im crazy AH 
> 
> I be out here clowin' with the angst :o)


End file.
